Tales from the Town of Salem
by DeadLight63
Summary: The town of Salem holds many tales. From the maniacal Serial Killer to the law enforcing Sheriff, all have their stories in the normally quiet town...
1. All I have Left

Tales from the Town of Salem

#1: All I Have Left

A cool breeze swept through the nearly empty house. The sound of the echoed gunshot had long been forgotten amongst the closed in walls of the small home, where the victim still lay on the cold tiles of his kitchen. His eyes were wide spread with shock and confusion, his arms heavily outstretched amongst the floor. Suddenly, the man blinked, and drew an uninterested expression upon his face. He looked up from his resting place, seeing that the assailaint had long since left. Satisfied, he rolled over and pushed himself up, his stomach burning from the impact of the bullet. With a deep breath he walked out of the kitchen, and moved to his bathroom with the full body mirror. His brown haired, blue eyed, middle aged face stared back at him as he lifted away his jacket, observing the bulletproof vest underneath. He groaned with annoyment at the result of the bullet.

"Great... Another one ruined..." He muttered to himself. The vest was completely ripped apart, and the Survivor could even see the bullet still in the lower half of the vest. It would be useless from here on out. Two vests were now ruined, that meant he only had half of them left. With a sigh and shake of his head, he tossed away the vest and placed his jacket back over his torso, and colsed the door to his bathroom. While his house certainly wasn't the most luxurious of things, it was fine in what the Survivor considered it's only useful role: a comfortable and warm place to sleep. With only one floor, and no real entertainment options save for a few motivational books one of the town Doctors had told him to read, there really was nothing else he could do there, save for cook what others would consider a pitiful excuse of a meal.

The Survivor opened the door to his bedroom, a small room with a table containing a pen and pad, lamp, and a wardrobe containg the Surviovr's few jackets, clothing, and remaining vests. In the right most corner of the room was the survivor's bed, which was something the one of the town Escorts had told him to use. According to her, it was extremly comfortable, and hleped you fall asleep more quickly. The Survior had bought it, but more for the second reason than the first. He didn't really like staying awake longer than needed, and only stayed up past the first breaking of the light if he was unbelievably hungry, which he had been tonight. It was around that time a Mafioso had showed up, with his fiendish smile and a gun. As the Surivor laid on his bed, underneath his covers, he stared at his celing as he made a mental note to himself. Head to the bar that Mafioso always visited.

...

The next morning was uneventful as far as the Survivor was concerned. Another few town members dead, and various people acting as though it was a big deal. It wasn't. Then again, with how much death the Survivor had seen during the war, perphaps he was just numb to it all. He allowed himself a small smile at that. He WAS numb to it. It was half past noon when he made his way to the frequented bar of the Mafioso. A more recent addition to the town, it was known for it's "uplifting" and, "party-like" music, with a freshly polished bar and shiny wooden tables. The Survivor helped himself to a small booth in the northern corner of the shop with a clear view of the entrance, and kept to himself until a young, pretty woman came to him in uniform, asking if he needed anything. Before he could answer, she squinted at him, then grew sad as the Survivor realized that his waitress was his niece, Tiffany.

"Uncle Mac, what are you doing here? Didn't you say you were getting off drinking?" She asked as she placed her hands on the table. The Survivor looked up at his niece and looked into her sad green eyes. The daughter of his older brother, he considered himself responsible for his demise, and never getting to see her again. Tiffany had taken care of herself very well, and she was on her way to leading a better life, being a freshman in college, and keeping a steady job at the bar for a little over a year now. She constantly tried to help the Survivor out of his near comatose state of living, but it just never worked. He sighed and looked away from his niece.

"I am. I'm just waiting for someone here." He said with a muted tone. Taking a sip of his water, Tiffany sat down and looked at him with a look of pain in her eyes.

"Uncle Mac, you need to-" She began.

"Save it Tif. I know I need to take better care of myself. Just get back to work okay? I don't want you in trouble because of a grump like me." The Survivor said in a sullen voice. Tiffany gave him a sad smile and kissed him on the cheek before getting up.

"I'm gonna drop by your house later, when I'm off work. We can talk then, okay?" She said as the Survivor looked at his menu for the first time.

"Don't we always?" He asked in a sarcastic tone. She smiled again as he placed an order for a glass of soda and a plate of nachos. She nodded and walked away. Time passed slowly until his food arrived, and even then, it wasn't much quicker. Eventually, about an hour had passed, and the Survivor had finally seen his target. A 30 something, blonde-haired, and blue eyed handsom man with an affity for joking around and drinking. He was also the Mafioso whom had attempted to kill the Survivor last night. He waited for the man to find a seat with a group of people, whom he assumed were the man's friends or coworkers. Either way, it wasn't of importance to him. He waited until the man was in high spirits from two or three glasses of beer, and made his way over to him.

Upon seeing the man, the Mafioso's wide smile lessened, but quickly regained it's normal strength as he greeted the Survivor like an old friend, and even asked the others if he could spend a minute alone with him to "play catch up". He was good, the Survivor had to admit that much. The othere members of the table gradually made their way to arcades or over to the bar to talk amongst themselves further, and the Survivor sat across from the Mafioso as a frown formed on his lips, void of the good humor that once filled them. Silence was the only thing that existed between them for a short while, until the Mafioso finally said;

"Not often I find myself talking to a dead man." The Mafioso had a voice that, on it's own, actually sounded somewhat soothing. The tone it carried now, however, was thick with an unmistakable growl. The Survivor found this somewhat interesting, but decided it was in his best interest not to comment on it.

"I'd return a sentinment along those lines, but I'm actually quite familiar with talking to people who tried to kill me." He said as the Mafioso took another sip of his drink. The younger man actually smiled and chuckled a bit at his statement.

"I would imagine you are." He said as he placed his glass down. "So I imagine you want to know why you were targeted? Or maybe some kind of threat to turn me over to the Sheriff if I don't turn myself in first?" He said as he swirled the remainder of his drink around the glass. A waitress came by with his food, and he smiled fondly at her and thanked her for her "wonderful" service, in addition to being easy on the eyes. The woman blushed and said she was merely doing her job. The Survivor wondered how many times the Mafioso had used that line, likely before spiking a poor girl's drink. The Mafioso turned his attention back to him, and held up a hand, indicating he was waiting on the Survivor's answer.

"No. On either one of those accounts." The Survivor said as the Mafioso took the first bite of his food, and nodding as he chewed on it happily.

"So what then? Come to beg to be left alone, tell me you're better off alive than dead to us? You'll support us if someone gets caught or some bolgona like that? Beg me to change my ways? I've heard that all before buddy." He said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. The Survivor stared at the man before him with little emotion in his eyes.

"I don't care what you do. Or what you do with this town. I just want to be left out of whatever is going on. I won't say anything to anyone, so do me a favor and just leave me be." He said. The Mafioso chuckled at that, and took another bite of his food and shook his head with a smile at the Survivor.

"Expect me to believe that? You fought in the war pal. You were one of them do-gooders who was praised for being a hero. In other words, a shining light of the good guys. My business has been considered bad for a while. Why would I trust you?" He said with a venous sneer in his voice. His face was written with a smirk and a slightly raised eyebrow. The Survivor held his gaze.

"Because I am tired. I am tired of it all. Killing, wondering if I'm going to survive to the next day, worrying about some people who enjoy making people suffer. I just want to be left to myself." He said in a tired voice. The Mafioso twirled his silverware in his fingers and seemed to ponder the Survivor's words. After a few seconds, he shrugged and looked back down to his food.

"I'll tell my superiors what you said. There's no gurantee they'll listen though. So I'd reccomend still sleeping with one of your eyes open." He said with a wink and a smile. The Survivor nodded and placed a twenty on the table.

"Tell the waitress that's for a plate of nachos in that booth over there." He said motioning towards his former seat. The Mafioso chuckled and pulled the twenty away, glad the Surviovor was playing along with his ruse of him being an old friend. The Surviovr looked around for Tiffany for a moment, then saw she was busy with another table. He looked away and walked out the front door, the chilly air around him blocked out by his jacket. He flipped his hood over his head as he made his way back to his house. The Mafioso may have been somewhat skeptical he would be left alone, but the Survivor decided he would go to sleep early today. After all he had nothing else to do today. Except live for those who didn't make it home, and he could do that at home just as easily as in some club.

Come to think of it, the Surviovr realized, that was all he had to live for.


	2. Tight Leash

Tales from the Town of Salem

#2: Tight Leash

It was a cool breezy day in the town of Salem. At least it was in a majority of the town. The massive business center near the town's center was decidedly much warmer, with the heating having been ramped up to ludicrous levels. It was hot enough inside that many workers had abandoned the jackets that they had brought with them into the building, and instead had loosened their shirts and ties in small attempt to cool themselves off. It was a wonder that they were able to focus long enough to get any kind of work done as far as the Consigliere was concerned.

A tall, slim man with red hair and brown eyes in his mid thirties, the Consigliere was a gifted detective who worked for the Salem Police Department, but was also secretly a well respected informant for the Mafia. At least at the current moment. The Consigliere had fallen on hard times when the failing economy had forced the police department to make a budget cut, cutting down the law enforcemnet by a third, and reducing the pay for the remaining officers. In an attempt to keep bread on the table for his sick wife and young daughter, the Consigliere had started looking for other jobs, and found one in the most unexpected place: the town's resident crime family, though family was a bit of loose definition. The Godfather of the Mafia had cmoe to the Consigliere with an offer that sounded amazing at the time. Present the Mafia with information on targets of it's choosing, and the Consigliere would find himself never needing as far as money was concerned.

That had been more than two years ago. During that time, the Consigliere had been more than happy to oblige, using his detective skills to dig up information on anyone the Godfather had deemed neccesary. What he had begun to notice, however, was that the people he investigated usally wound either becoming reclusive shells of their former selves, moving away into other towns, or, in the worst case scenarios, dead on their doorsteps. After he noticed this, he tried to ignore it as best he could, saying that he had no part in their misfortunes and he was merely looking out for his family. The more time that passed, however, the more the Consigliere realized that that just wasn't true. Besides, what if his daughter found out? No, he couldn't do this anymore.

Having met the Godfather several times, the Consigliere had decided to come to him during his day job, as a CEO to a massive business. Using the cover of attempting to find the cause of a death two nights ago, the Consigliere had managed to enter the building and even get an appointment with him, and, as he sat in the uncomforable heat, he thought that the appointment couldn't come soon enough. Then again, it might have been his fault for choosing to wear a suit. The workers, oddly enough, seemed even more miserable than he felt, either sitting bored in their cubicles, or walking around with various files in hand, and appearing completely disintressted. The Consigliere pondered how quickly their attitudes would change, should they know that their employer was a crime boss.

"Excuse me, Mr. Phoenix? Mr. Evans will see you now." The Consigliere heard from his right. Looking over, he could see a woman a little taller than average height with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a winning, though probably forced smile. Definitely a secretary who secretly wanted to be anywhere else but here. Despite this, he smiled back and thanked the woman for letting him know. He straighted his tie as the secretary opened the door.

The walls contained several pictures of the Godfather posing beside important members of the town such as the Mayor, the Sheriff, and well known politicians. In the center of the room was a large desk made of polished oak, with a picture of a smiling woman holding a laughing little girl, a globe, and a thin computer monitor connected to an almost glasslike keyboard, with a small but, well decorated computer mouse. Behind the desk, the Godfather sat in a massive black chair, his greying hair combed neatly to one side, and his brown eyes carried the same look an friend might share with another. He, like the Consigliere, was dressed in a suit with a red tie, though he had long since discarded his jacket onto the back of his seat, and merely had on his white undershirt. To one whom was oblivious, the Godfather appeared as nothing more than your average businessman. The Consigliere, however, knew better.

"John Phoenix, welcome to my humble abode! Come in, sit down, let's talk." He said with a hint of merryment in his voice. The door closed behind him as the Consigliere chuckled and walked to a small chair that carried a red cushion. The Godfather was a master of appearing to be what he wasn't, the Consigliere thought to himself. He sat down and the Godfather leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands over one another, never once loosing that initial smile. The Consigliere wondered for a moment how the best way to proceed was, knowing the Godfather could order his death right after he left, should he deem it neccesary.

"So, what brings you here my friend?" The Godfather said with a happy tone. The Consigliere gave out an anxious breath. He would just state it plainly, anything else would just be prolonging the awkward experience.

"I want out." He said calmly. The Godfather blinked once, then shook his head, cocking it back as if the Consigiliere said something strange. He let out a short chuckle, and stared at the Consigliere wtih questioning eyes.

"I'm sorry?" He asked. The Consigliere gave a sympathetic smile, and fumbled with his hands for a moment before he answered him.

"I don't want to be part of this anymore. It just... It doesn't feel right. I have to think about what my daughter would think of me if she found out. And my wife... I couldn't bear to see the look on her face if she discovered. So... Yeah, I want out." He explained. During his explanation, the Godfather lost his smile, but nodded his understanding. He didn't appear to be angry, and if anything, appeared to have a respectful gleam in his eyes. The Godfather seemed to ponder his words for a moment, then lifted his hand to the Consigliere.

"Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?Any other reasons you don't want to do this anymore?" He asked. The tone in his voice almost sounded like he was hoping for the Consigliere to give more reasoning behind his request. The Consigliere gave the man a smile. For being the leader of a massive crime group, the Godfather was actually a pretty likeable man. He shook his head.

"No sir, I just want to have a clear concience when I tell my daughter that I'm a good man. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone anything. You can even keep the money." He said with a smile. The Godfather nodded and leaned back in his chair. He paused for a few tense moments, making the Consigliere wonder just what he was planning. However, to his surprise, the Godfather rose his eyebrows and nodded once more.

"Alright." He said simply. The Consigliere maintained his smlie, but reared back slightly. It was that easy? Really? All this worrying, and that was all he had to do? The Godfather was more understanding that he had given him credit for. He had expected an angry response, demanding he remain loyal, lest he wwanted himself killed.

"Thank you sir. I really appreciate it." He said as he began to get up. The Godfather held up his hand, signalling him to wait for a moment.

"Phoenix, before you go, I need you to take a look at something." He said as he reached under his desk. He pulled open a file cabinet as the Consigliere sat back down in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. The Godfather shifted through some files as the Consigliere asked him if anything was wrong. The Godfather shook his head as he stuck out his bottom lip.

"No, not at all. But, one of my people "found" some pictures, and I wanted to know what you thought about them. No targets, I just don't know what to think of them. Consider it a parting gift, eh?" He said, placing air quotes when he said found. The Consigliere chuckled. The Godfather wanted one more favor. He didn't mind though, it was the last thing he would do with the mafia. The Godfather gave a happy sigh as he pulled out a yellow file, and placed them on the desk, and indicated the Consigliere to take a look.

"Kills that aren't yours or something?" The Consigliere asked as he picked up the file. The Godfather smiled and shook his head.

"Just take a look." He said. The Consiglere smiled as he opened the file, then turned dead silent. The smile vanished from his lips as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes suddenly widening to their limits. At the front of the file was a picture of his daughter getting off a bus to school, her red hair and _My Little Pony _backpack unmistakable amongst the sea of other children. He looked up at the Godfather with angry eyes, only to see a condescending grin with slanted eyes. Looking back to the file, the Consigliere moved the photograph out of the way, and saw another one, this time of her at a public park playing on the swings. He continued to shift through the pictures, seeing several pictures of his little girl, some of them even had him with her. The Consigliere shook with rage as he looked back up to the Godfather.

"You had Amanda followed?!" He nearly shouted, standing up and throwing the file back down onto the table in front of him. The Godfather merely chuckled at this, and refolded his hands. The Consigliere stared at the man in front of him with absolute hatred, but the Godfather only had that stupid smile on his face, a smile that the Consgiliere suddenly wanted to punch right off his face.

"Indeed. She really is a sweet girl, so full of life, and innocence..." He said as he shook his head, grabbing the file off of the desk and thumbing through the photos. The Consigliere burned with rage at the man before him, his face turning a dark shade of red. The Godfather fingered through the photos for some time until he came upon one he seemed to really enjoy, and he picked it up. He smiled fondly at it, and gave a happy sigh.

"Now this one... This one is really something. Such a loving dad you have sweetheart... He would never let anything happen to you... Would he?" He said in a smart aleck voice, turning the photo for the Consigliere to see. It was one of him picking his daughter up from school, with both of them smiling as they hugged each other. The Consigliere breathed heavily from his nose as he seemed with anger.

"Why?" He demanded. The Godfather looked at him with surprise, and gave another short chuckle.

"You didn't seriously think we made risky investments without some kind of levearge did you?" He asked in an incredulous voice. The Consigliere stared angrily at him for a few seconds more, then shook his head as he slumped back down into his chair. How could he have been so naive? Of course they would have done something like this, how could he have not forseen this? Was he really so entranced by the money he was recieving that he hadn't thought of this?

"She's only ten years old..." He pleaded, suddenly filled with a feeling of shame, guilt, and fear. He couldn't let anything happen to his baby girl. Maybe he could convince the Godfather to leave her alone? The Godfather simply shrugged and sat back in his chair, spinning it slightly from side to side.

"I've seen little girls get killed as young as five, ten's twice as long. So you might consider her lucky in some cases." He said in what was supposed to be an impressed voice. The Consigliere wasn't fooled. His rage returned to him as he stood back up and slammed his palms down on the desk in front of him. He stared into the eyes of the Godfather, who still simply smiled at him.

"What have I done to warrant my daughter being threatened like this?!" He said, his voice rising in volume at every word, malice and contempt oozing out of every word that left his mouth. The Godfather simply shrugged.

"Nothing... At least, not yet." He said in a calm and collected tone, a complete opposite to the Consigilere. He backed away and growled angrily, shaking his head at the predicament he was finding himself in.

"So... You will stay with us?" He could hear the Godfather say. The Consigiliere wanted to scream at the top of his lungs every horrid thing that his mind could think up, to shout every name at the Godfather that he had heard in his life. But he knew this would accomplish nothing, and if anything, would only bring more danger onto his daughter. He sighed and looked away from the Godfather.

"Good." The Godfather said with a satisfied tone. The Consigliere looked down at the ground as he heard more files being opened, and the shuffling of papers. He let hot tears fall down his face as he realized how hopeless the situation was before him. Not only was he stuck as the mafia's informant, but now he had to worry about his daughter with every choice he made, and constantly keep a lookout for anyone within the mafia who might kill a child. He would be on a very short leash from here on out...

Little did either the Godfather or the Consigliere know, however, was that a third set of ears had heard the entire conversation. Slowly, the Spy began to make his way out of the office building, shedding his janitor disguise once he had made his way outside. The cool air blew around him as he made his way to the Sheriff's office.

He had information to share.


	3. The Price I Pay

Tales from the Town of Salem

#3: The Price I Pay

The music blared loudly in Salem's biggest nightclub, as strobe lights flashed quickly amongst the crowds of people. The dance floor was completely packed with all types of people, young, old, middle-aged, even young children whom were brought by those who didn't really care too much for parentage. Various alcoholic drinks were scattered amongst the club, in hands, on tables, spilled over the floor, and anywhere else that one might be able to imagine. In short, it was exactly the kind of place that the Bodyguard really didn't find any kind of interest in.

A man in his late fourties, the Bodyguard was a burly man with a bit of hulking frame, and not all of it muscle. His brown, greying hair was neatly combed to the right side, and his brown eyes scanned the club for possible threats. In an attempt to blend in with the crowd, he was wearing decidedly casual attire. A blue hoodie hid his bullet proof vest, and was thankfully long enough to cover his belt loops, which contained the holster for his gun.

Sitting at the bar, he took another sip of his drink, which he had been sure to make sure was non-alcoholic. Next to him, a young lady sat in a man's lap, groping his chest as the both of them laughed uncontrollably, the man spilling his drink. The Bodyguard looked over at the couple for a short minute, then shook his head. _Kids..._ He thought to himself. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he stood from his stool at the bar, and walked towards the door leading to backstage. A man in uniform stood in front of the door, a ballcap with the word _Security _plastered across it resting on his head. The Bodyguard flashed him an ID, and the Security Guard nodded at him and opened the door for him.

In additon to normal security, the nightclub required the performers have at least one personal guard, just in case of an emergency. Most people believed the practive to be extensive and unneeded, but the Bodyguard found himself in the one percent who actually agreed with the policy. There were some crazy people out there, and he was glad that the nightclub was taking extra precautions to insure the performers' safety. The door closing dulled the noise of music somewhat, though it was still loud enough for the singer to be heard. _If that can be classified as singing... _The Bodyguard thought to himself.

As he entered the backstage area, he saw four more Security Guards, four performers, and a total of five other guards. Two performers had two guards, the third performer only had one, and the final performer, his performer, currently was alone. The Bodyguard walked past the other performers and their bodyguards, focusing on the one at the very end of the stage. Her brown hair was tied back into a pony tail, and through the mirror he could see her green eyes surrounded by makeup. She had on only a shiny purple top outlined in blue, and a long flowing skirt that reached down to her knees, leaving her mid-section, arms, lower legs, and shoulders completely bare. The performer looked behind her, and smiled.

"Dad! I'm glad I got to talk to you before I went on, how do I look?" His daughter, better known to most of the town as the Escort, asked as she stood up and presented herself. With her mother being a well known actress, Riley had been fascinated by her mother's work even as a young girl, and even followed in her mother's footsteps, becoming a child and teenage star. When she was seventeen, however, she decided it was little too much for her, and settled back down in Salem, taking a job as performer at the comedy club. She still associated herself in bigger productions every once in a while, but not nearly to the same degree. The Bodyguard looked his daughter over with a disapproving glare, then shook his head.

"You look half-naked. Is that seriously what they're making you wear?" He said with as he crossed his arms. Riley laughed and gave her father a playful shove, though he didn't move so much as an inch.

"Come on, lighten up big guy!" She said with a smile. The Bodyguard kept his arms crossed and looked at his daughter with a frustrated look. _Does she really not understand what this kind of outfit advertises to young men? _He thought to himself as Riley folded her hands together in front of her.

"Don't worry, it's just for tonight anyway." She said with a smile on her face. The Bodyguard sighed and rubbed one his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, I know. I just don't like it when you're made into a sex object." He said. Riley gave him a sympthetic look and opened her arms. The Bodyguard opened up his own arms and Riley walked into them, closing her arms around her father. The Bodyguard hugged his daughter back and gave out another sigh.

"I'm sorry dad. But the Sheriff said that the Godfather might be here tonight. I can't just let him do what he wants, right?" Riley said , still locked into the hug with her father. The Bodyguard closed his eyes and sighed for a third time. He closed his eyes and nodded.

"I know, you're right. I just wish he chose someone else." He replied. Riley pulled away from her father, though she still held onto her forearms, and he held onto hers. Her eyes still carried the full weight of her sympathy, along with her smile.

"Just promise me you'll be careful okay?" He asked. Riley gave a short chuckle, her eyes lighting up.

"I promise. I love you dad." She said. The Bodyguard smiled and gave her a kiss on her forehead. 

"I love you too sweetheart." He replied. Riley opened her mouth to say something more, but it was right at that moment the owner of the club decided to put on the girls for the next song. Riley took a deep breath and gave her father a kiss on his cheek before she broke away from him, and joined up with the other performers. A security guard walked up behind the Bodyguard, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Head out to the front stage. We need you on the lookout for anything out there." The man said. The Bodyguard turned to face him, a thirty something who seemed genuniely concerned about the performers, at least based on the look on his face. The Bodyguard nodded and went for the exit to the backstage. He flashed an ID to another guard, who opened the door for him. As he stepped back into the main area of the nightclub, he noticed it go dark as only a few strobe lights continued to go flash.

"Ladies and gentlemen! For your viewing pleasure, we present to you these absolutely lovely ladies of the night! Say hello to Jasmine, Veronica, Amanda, aaaaand RILEY!" An announcer shouted as a new song began to play. Looking to the stage, the Bodyguard watched as several men and some women began to abandon the dance floor for a better look at the dancers. The performers all slowly walked to the center of the stage, all of them in scanty clothing that left little to the imagination. _Ugh... Disgusting..._ The Bodyguard thought to himself as several of the attendees began to howl and cheer at the girls, more than one of which seemed to be aimed at his daughter. The song continued to grow in intensity, and the Bodyguard knew it could only be bad when the song started with _We're the Rebels of the night._

Walking through the mass of people, the Bodyguard made his way to the back of the building, and past several other personal and security guards. Some of them nodded to him, and he nodded to them in return. He settle down and leaned against a back wall as performers gently swayed their hips and other body parts to the music. The Bodyguard could still hear several young people howling with approval, with someone even shouting for the girls to "work it". The Bodyguard shook his head as the song began to grow a little more upbeat, ending in the singer saying _Up and Away_. At these words, the beat dropped, and the performers, all with smiles on their faces, began to move their bodies in even more provactive ways.

_Oh my God... _The Bodyguard thought to himself as he rested his head in his palms. He couldn't believe how sexualized these dance moves were. Didn't the owner have any sense of preserving the decency of these girls? He felt filthy watching this. The fact that several people around him were cheering and howling in approval only made him feel even more dirty. Looking back up, the Bodyguard shook his head as he scanned the rest of the club. He nearly finished his scan when he noticed an odd movement on the second floor of the club. Just over the railing, he saw a man in a red jacket carefully observing one of the girls. The Bodyguard squinted and pushed himself off the wall.

Making his way to a set of stairs, the Bodyguard grabbed hold of the handrails as the strobe lights flashed more quickly than ever. People all over the club started dancing along, some of them throwing encouragments to the girls. The Bodyguard ignored this however, focusing instead on the man in the red jacket. He saw him reach down into his pocket for something, and pulled it out, though the Bodyguard could not see what it was. The song worked it's way back to the main part, and the Bodyguard quickly pushed his way through several people.

The man paused for a moment, turning his body, and bringing his hand back up. The Bodyguard noticed a black object in his hand, and wondered just what it was this man had. It was then that he saw a silver flash, and realized that the man had just drawn a large pocket knife. The Bodyguard grew wide eyed, and shoved a young woman out of his way.

"Hey watch it!" She shouted, but the Bodyguard ignored her and rushed towards the man. He drew back the knife and started to aim at someone. The Bodyguard looked back to the stage, and realized that the man was was aiming his knife right at Riley. Upon this relization, the Bodyguard roared in anger, and rushed to the man. Somehow hearing this, the man turned to face him, just in time to see the Bodyguard tackle him to the ground. A couple of people let loose surpised shouts as the Bodyguard pulled back his fist, ready to punch the man. His fist was caught however, and the man headbutted him off of him.

The Bodyguard backed away holding his head, then shook himself clear as a group of people around him backed away, a buslte of chatter coming from them. The Bodyguard focused his attention on the man who had attempted to kill his daughter, only to freeze. The man had two diferently colored eyes, one blue, one green, with unmistakable blonde hair. The Bodyguard knew this person, he was standing face to face with a Serial Killer. Not only that, this one was known for killing young women. _To hell with him if he thinks he's touching my little girl... _He thought to himself as he grit his teeth. The Serial Killer glared angrily at the man as more disturbed voices joined the mix of music and howling on the floor below.

The Bodyguard roared in anger and rushed towards the Serial Killer, whom stood his ground and waited for the Bodyguard to come to him. The Bodyguard pulled his fist back and, with all his might threw it towards the Serial Killer's face. The man once again caught his fist, and twisted his arm painfully. The Bodyguard gave an agonized scream as the club goers screamed and rushed away from the conflict. The Bodyguard felt the Serial Killer step on top of his arm. Howling in agony, the Bodyguard attempted to rip his arm way. The Serial Killer held firm, and twirled him around, throwing him towards the railing.

The Bodyguard slammed into it, the breath being knocked right out of him. He turned around as fast as he could, and saw the Serial Killer running to regain his lost knife. _No you don't! _The Bodyguard thought to himself as he rushed to his opponent. He reclaimed his knife and raised it over his head, but the Bodyguard grabbed hold of his arm and kept his arm locked in place. Both men stared at each other with hatred in their eyes, as each of them struggled to gain control in the contest.

The Serial Killer pushed forward, while the Bodyguard pushed against him, leaving in a deadlock stance, neither of them moving in either direction. Finally, the Bodyguard lurched both of them to the right, and they flew over the railing. The Bodyguard threw out his arms as he attempted to break his fall, only to hear a sickening crunch sound. His vision went black for a moment, and the only sounds he could hear were those of horrified screams. Looking up, the Bodyguard saw several security guards rushing over to him, with some of them rushing to the Serial Killer. The Killer quickly got up and threw his knife with deadly accuracy, hititng one of the guards in his neck. Blood gushed out of the guard's fingers as he tried to cover the wound, and the Serial Killer produced another, smaller knife from his second pocket.

Groaning, the Bodyguard attempted to push himself up, and looked up to the stage, seeing the girls being escorted away by the persoanl guards of the other performers. Over their arms, he could see Riley attmepting to shover her way past them. The Bodyguard gave a painful moan as he got up, and placed his hand over his abdomen. Looking back to the Serial Killer, he saw him stab another one of the guards. The Bodyguard began to pull up his jacket, and reached for his pistol. His hand found the handle as the Serial Killer turned to look at him. With a malicious look, the Serial Killer rushed over to him, his second knife at his side. The Bodyguard fumbled with his weapon trying to pull it out in time.

The action came too late, as the Serial Killer sprang upon him, stabbing him below the vest of the Bodyguard.

"DAD!" He could hear Riley scream. The Bodygaurd clenched his teeth as the Serial Killer extracted his knife, and slipped the blood covered blade back into him. And again, the Killer stabbed him, slightly lower this time, then higher. He raised his knife to strike him in his cranium, a malicious smile written across his features.

_**BANG! **_The Serial Killer stopped in place, the smile vanishing from his lips. He looked down in horror, seeing that the Bodyguard had raised his weapon to his abdomen. And, based on the fresh blood that was oozing out of his stomach, had fired. _**BANG! BANG! **_Came two more shots from the Bodyguard. The Serial Killer backed away, clutching his stomach painfully as he sank to one knee. Fighting through the blurry haze of pain, the Bodyguard rose his handgun to the Killer's head, feeling his strength drain out of him. Gritting his teeth and fighting the pain, the Bodyguard pulled the trigger one last time.

_**BANG! **_Sounded the gun. The tip of the Serial Killer's head flew back, a red mist forming as he jerked backward violently, falling to the ground with a silent thud. Panting heavily, the Bodyguard attempted to walk forward, only to driven to the ground, the gun slipping out of his hands. He fell into a pool of his own blood, and felt himself getting weaker and weaker as he heard several people gasping and screaming.

"NO! DAD!" He could hear Riley shout. He heard rapid footsteps approaching, and panted heavily as his vision faded in and out. Suddenly, Riley's face came into view. Tears flew freely down her face, and she was visibly shaking. Her pony tail dangled from the side of her neck, and she placed her hand behind his head. The Bodyguard reached out and grabbed hold of one of her arms. She placed her other hand on his cheek, tears continuing to stream down her face.

"No... No , Dad this can't be happening... Not to you!" Riley shrieked, her voice racked with anguish and sorrow. The Bodyguard coughed a few times and grabbed hold of his daughter tighter.

"Riley... Listen to me..." He said, his voice growing quiet. Riley's eyes grew wide, and she shook her head rapidly. She grabbed hold of her father's hand with hers, and brought it up to her cheek.

"No, Dad, come on... You're gonna be okay,right? W-We just need a Doctor! Someone get a Doctor!" She screamed. The Bodyguard coughed a few more times, and rubbed his daughter's cheek as tears continued to flow out of her eyes. She broke down then, closing her eyes as her body was racked with desperate sobs.

"Please... Dad, you can't die like this..." She said between her sobs. The Bodyguard smiled and attempted to quiet hs daughter, and continued to rub her cheek. She stopped sobbing long enough to open her eyes, tears still streaking her face. The Bodyguard continued to smile at his daughter.

"Riley... I love you... So much..." He said in a quiet voice. His eyes closed, and his hand grew limp in Riley's hand. Riley grew wide eyed, and shook her head slowly.

"Dad?" She said, barely louder than a whisper. The Bodyguard did not respond.

"Daddy?" She said, louder this time. Still, the Bodyguard did not respond.

"DAD!" She screamed as she shook her father. Even with this, the Bodyguard did not respond. Horrified and grief stricken, Riley let go of her father's hand, which fell to his side and hit the ground with a soft thud. Riley began to cry softly, then harder, and harder still until she was sobbing again. She threw her arms around her now dead father, and cried into his chest, as the other occupants of the nightclub stood petrified in horror.

And while this was occuring, not one person noticed as one of the security guards, watching the entire scene, shook his head. _No... _He thought to himself. _This is not the price he pays..._


	4. A Re-Opened Door

Tales from the Town of Salem

#4: A Re-Opened Door

**Author's Note: This is a direct follow-up story to "The Price I Pay".**

The mood was distinctly foul in the funeral home of Salem, not necessarily for reasons of the home itself. It was actually very well kept, with the red carpets freshly vacuumed, and several windows allowing moonlight into the building. There were several armchairs and couches strewn along the rooms, with flowers from loved ones of the deceased decorating the tables to the side of them. Still, even with all this, the Retributionist couldn't help but notice the ill mood and sadness that flowed from the people around him.

A man in his early sixties, the Retributionist was a man whose color had faded from his features, his once brown hair turning a dark grey, and his vibrant green eyes now being dulled slightly. He was also slightly overweight, with his stomach jutting out from his waist. He wore a brown suit with a red tie, and carried a small blue flower in his front pocket. Officially, he was a retired man, although he still picked up jobs every once in a while to stay in touch with the community. A few months ago, he had taken a quick job as a Security Guard at a night club.

While there, he saw a variety of things that he would rather have not seen. Men foolishly throwing themselves at women, women throwing themselves at men, and several other things that could make any mother wonder what they had done wrong with their children. Then of course, there was the night a Bodyguard gave his life to protect his daughter, not to mention the numerous other Security Guards who lost their lives to a Serial Killer before the Bodyguard stopped him. This was only three days ago.

The Retributionist walked now amongst the well dressed people in the funeral home, seeing a variety of people. Close friends of the Bodyguard, old teachers whom had come to pay their respects, the in laws and living mother of the Bodyguard, and a preacher who would preside over the ceremony. The Retributionist hadn't actually known the Bodyguard on a personal level, but he had seen him around his workplace a few times at previous jobs, such as when he was a secretary for the Mayor, during which the Bodyguard was protecting him.

Of course, the were two particular people the Retributionist had his eye on. One being the wife of the Bodyguard, a well known actress named Alexis. Upon hearing of her husband's death, she was grief stricken, and abandoned the movie she had been working on to attend his funeral at home. Then, there was his daughter, Riley. The young woman had said very little since her father died in her arms, and had become somewhat of a recluse.

As he walked amongst the people, he finally found those he had been searching for. In the main foyer where the ceremony would take place, Alexis and Riley stood by the casket of the Bodyguard. The Retributionist slowly walked up to them, and in the process, caught a small piece of their conversation.

"...know Riley. I don't know." Alexis said. She wore a simple black dress with a jacket over it, her brown hair in a ponytail that reached her mid back. Her daughter, on the other hand, was wearing black dress pants, and a formal purple shirt. Her hair was shorter than her mother's, and flew unrestrained to the tips of her shoulders. Riley leaned her head against her mother, who wrapped her arms around her protectively.

Coming up to the casket, the Retributionist peeked inside, seeing the Bodyguard in what looked like a peaceful sleep, wearing a suit with a blue tie, and his hair neatly combed to the right side. The Retributionist almost thought to gently shake the man, as to wake him from his slumber, but he knew this would achieve nothing. Instead he looked towards the man's wife and daughter again. Riley still had her head leaned against her mother's shoulder, and Alexis was crying softly to herself, sniffing once as she attempted to remain composed.

"Excuse me ma'am, but would you happen to be this man's wife?" The Retributionist asked, though he already knew the answer to that question. He had spoken to a private Investigator he was close friends with and learned everything he could about him. Still, he would need to make this look as natural as possible, so as not to arise any suspicion and get thrown out before he executed his plan. Alexis looked over to him and stared quizzically for a moment, then nodded her head.

"Y-Yes, I am." She said quickly. Riley seemed to notice the Retributionist, and looked over to him. Releasing her daughter for a moment, Alexis stood up straight, and placed her hands respectively in front of her. The Retributionist smiled and extended his hand to her.

"I am so sorry that this has happened to you. I worked with Bruce a few times in the past, and I just wanted to stop by and pay my respects." He said respectively. Alexis didn't seem to fully hear what he said, but nodded nonetheless.

"Um... Thank you..." She sighed and shook her head. "...I'm sorry, I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. I mean... " She began to say, but the Retributionist held out his hand and gave a kind smile.

"I understand. It always takes time to accept these things." He said. He looked down to the flower in his front pocket and gently picked it out. He twirled it around in his fingers for a moment before looking back over to the casket, observing the Bodyguard lying there peacefully. He looked back over to Alexis, and saw her with a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"May I?" He asked politely. Alexis seemed surprised to hear him speak again, and looked back over to him with a start. She looked at the flower in his hand for a moment before she figured out what he meant, and gave a small nod.

"Uh, sure... Go ahead." She said. Riley walked past her mother for a moment and stood by the Retributionist gently opened the Bodyguard's palm and placed the stem of the flower into it. Backing away slightly, the Retributionist looked him over once more. The Bodyguard seemed to be holding it close to his heart. The Retributionist noticed Riley smile for a moment, and walk closer to the casket. Alexis came up besides her daughter and observed her husband as well, where she too began to smile softly.

"That's Riley's favorite flower..." Alexis said under her breath, thought it wasn't quiet enough for the Retributionist to hear it. He felt a soft touch on his arm, and looked to Riley, whom was smiling at him.

"Thank you." She said. He nodded and stepped away. He observed the mother and daughter for a moment longer, then turned away and proceeded to the back of the room. He passed the time with casual small talk with other friends and family of the Bodyguard. Finally, the preacher made his way to the front of the room, stood in front of the brown podium, and called for everyone to take a seat for the ceremony. The Retributionist saw Alexis and Riley take a seat near the front, seated next to each other. Once again Riley leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, who draped her arm over her protectively.

"Today, we come here to honor the life and times, of Bruce Sullivan. And though our hearts mourn his passing, we are not here in sadness and despair. But with joy, and companionship, as we remember the great man Bruce was. Today we remember his kind heart, his loving nature..." The preacher said as he began his testimony. The Retributionist politely listened as he began detailing some of Bruce's life, beginning with his childhood where his father died while fighting in Vietnam in 1971. He had been three at the time. Despite this, he had grown up a very good man, and consistently helped out his community.

The preacher's testimony lasted a bit longer, with short stories about Bruce serving in the military, becoming a Bodyguard for hire when he was honorably discharged for taking a bullet wound to his leg, and listing various things he did for his family. Eventually, he got around to asking anyone who wanted to, to come up and share something about Bruce. The Retributionist knew that this would be the best time to do what he was hoping, but out of politeness, waited for anyone who wanted to speak to finish.

The first person to come up was the Bodyguard's mother. The elderly woman had gray hair and a set of kind blue eyes which carried a profound sense of sadness. She told a story of her and her son before he was first deployed somewhere in the military. She smiled as she recalled the story.

"... I remember being so angry at him. I was screaming and yelling at him, and he was just trying to calm me down. Finally I asked him 'What are you trying to get yourself killed for?' What he said astounded me, and made me so proud of him. He said to me, 'Mom, I'm not trying to get myself killed. I want to make Dad proud, I want protect my country like he did.'" She went on a little longer, saying what a good man he was, that he was a great son, and that she would miss him.

Other people came and went, talking about the Bodyguard and of good times they had with him, some with not so good times, but all of them were fond of the Bodyguard, all of them wished that he was still alive, and all of them wished things had gone differently. The Retributionist watched the final person walk up back to their seat, and sit down. The preacher made a call for anyone to come up. The Retributionist saw Riley look up for a moment, but shake her head and look back down. The Retributionist frowned and stood up. Shimmying out of the aisle, he made his way to the front of the room.

Reaching into his suit, he pulled out a small Bible, and opened it to a book marked page. The page held a highlighted verse, and a small, golden cross with several runes on it. Hidden on the flower he had given to the Bodyguard, was another rune. If he did this correctly, he would revive the Bodyguard and restore him to life fully. If he failed, he could play it off as inspiring people to live on to honor the Bodyguard's legacy. He wouldn't fail though. He had practiced far too much. He reached down to grab the cross, and in the meantime, read a verse from the Bible.

"Revalation chapter 3 says; "We serve a God, who opens doors, that no one can shut. And he shuts doors, that no one can open. He says, behold! I have placed before you an open door, that no one can shut. I know you are of little strength, but you have kept my word, and have not denied my name." He said as he pulled the cross from the Bible. Under his breath, he muttered the runes in Latin, which the people before him seemed to pass of as him reciting the verse. He placed the cross in front of the casket, and said a few more words in Latin, and the cross began to shine a dull gold color. The Retributionist smiled, so far, everything was working. Turning to block the light, he stood smiling as he addressed everyone in front him.

"My friends, the Lord is not yet through with Bruce. He has passed from this Earthly realm, but his legacy lives on. He has instilled his will to serve others, his desire for all to be protected, his commitment to love, into all of you. His friends, his family, even his coworkers." He muttered a few words of Latin as he pretended to clear his throat. He could hear a slight humming noise. "Even thought the Lord has closed the door on Bruce's life, one that we cannot hope to open again, many doors now open to you..." He motioned towards the Bodyguard's mother, his wife, his daughter, and everyone else in the room.

"...The doors to live like he did. To care for this town so much, that you would do anything to protect it. To be so loving, to be caring, to be the best that we can be." A few more words in Latin, the cross was shining brighter now, and there was a slight light coming from the casket. "Bruce's work may be done, but his legacy is not. Through the ideals he has ingrained into all of you, he will live on. His work will continue, his love will not die." He said the last few words in Latin, and his hands started to glow brightly. The crowd began to become concerned with some standing and firing rapid accusations of witchcraft, and others claiming him to be an angel.

The Retributionist smiled and ignored the commotion as more and more people began to loudly discuss what was happening. He looked to Riley, who stared at him with awe. He nodded to her and walked to the casket, grabbing the cross that was now shining brilliantly. He looked down into the casket, and saw the flower giving off a soft, dull, blue glow. Calmly, he placed the shining cross next to the flower, before uttering three final words in Latin;

"Vivat, crescat, floreat." With those words, a brilliant white light shined all throughout the room, bathing it with it's light. Everyone covered their eyes, allowing the Retributionist to make his way out of the room. He looked back through the open doorway, and saw the light recede, noticing a familiar voice groan.

"What... How.." He heard. He allowed himself to smile again, he knew he had succeeded. The preacher rushed over to the casket, and his eyes go wide. He looks back to the gathered family members and friends. The Retributionist sees Riley stand as the preacher hurriedly opens the bottom half of the casket, and extended out a hand. From inside the casket, a hand reached out and took hold, gaining surprised exclamations from everyone in attendance. The Retributionist watched as the preacher pulled the Bodyguard up, and helped him get himself over and out of the casket.

His hand on his head, the newly resurrected Bodyguard looked up, his brown eyes full of life, confusion, and awe. Slowly he looked over to where Riley and Alexis were, who were now standing. Slowly, amongst the chatter of astonished attendees, the Retributionist watched as the Bodyguard slowly walked forward.

"I'm alive..." He said quietly. Riley walked forward slightly.

"Daddy... Is... Is it really..." She stammered. The Bodyguard looked to his daughter. Tears started flowing from his eyes as he looked at her.

"Riley... I'm..." He got no farther than that, as he was suddenly at a loss of words as his daughter suddenly ran forward and embraced him, which he quickly returned. Riley began sobbing uncontrollably and fell to the ground, still holding her father. The Bodyguard held onto her, falling to his knees as he began to cry as well. All at once everyone began loudly calling out his name and began to crowd around him and Riley, with Alexis joining in on their hug and crying with them.

Smiling to himself, the Retributionist kissed his Bible.

"Thank you Lord." He said as he walked away from the scene, and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack at the front lobby, and walked away into the cool night.


End file.
